


No Exception

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Banter, Biting, Body Worship, Breathplay, Cunnilingus, DD/DD/LG, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Good Guy Nijimura, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, Love Triangles, Masturbation, Multi, Nash is in a gang, Nipple Play, Shameless Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Fingering, Wake-Up Sex, and an arrogant bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21893389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "Nash moans and Nijimura swears he can feel the reverberation of it pass down the length of his spine. He shudders and tries to ignore the sensation as he ducks his head to lay a trail of honeyed kisses over the inviting stretch of bare skin beneath him." Nash and Nijimura decide that the best thing to do on a lazy Sunday morning is show you how much you're appreciated.
Relationships: Nash Gold Jr./Nijimura Shuuzou/Reader, Nash Gold Jr./Reader, Nijimura Shuuzou/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57
Collections: Kuroko no Basuke Faves





	No Exception

It's Sunday morning and the air is crisp and sweet but it looks earlier than it should due to the overcast sky. The bedroom is dim despite Nijimura's previous endeavor to invite the scant rays of light that had attempted to break through the clouds nearly an hour ago into the vast space. The sun had made a valiant effort but the brightest star's war against the mare's tail resulted in its third loss since the start of the week.

Nijimura had debated rifling through his hamper for a clean pair of pants and lumbering into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee, but when he looked at your sleeping face he decided that pursuing productivity could wait. He climbed back into bed and pressed himself flush against your listless frame. He draped an arm over your waist and closed his eyes, focusing on your soft snores as he began to count the measured rhythm of your breathing through the rise and fall of your chest.

He had just reached out toward the nebulous abyss of slumber, his fingers stretching toward Hypnos, when he heard the jingle of keys in the threshold of his consciousness.

Nijimura cracks open his eyes and forces himself into awareness. He blinks to clear the haze of fatigue from his eyes and listens to the familiar shuffle of footsteps coming down the hall.

“What the fuck are you two still doing in bed?” Nash asks, a smile on his face as he shakes his head in a gesture of put-on disbelief. “It's after nine o'clock. I didn't even think you'd be home by the time I got back. Don't you have a job to go to or something?”

Nijimura scoffs and carefully pulls himself upright so he can press himself against the support of the cushioned headboard at his back. “I have today off, asshole,” he needles. It's taken the better part of a year to get used to Nash's personality and the magnetism of his so-called charm, but he eventually found a level of likeness in the temperament of Nash and himself. That's not to say that they don't still have their fair share of disagreements—physical or otherwise—but they've come to an understanding. Which is far more than they could have said at the beginning of their liaison, or love-triangle, as you like to call it.

Nash's hair swings forward and grazes the sharp angle of his jaw as he bends over to untie the laces on his pair of high-priced sneakers. He kicks them off after a brief moment and before he rights himself, he tugs up his pant leg to reveal a sheath and holstered combat knife. He removes them quickly, his fingers working as smooth as an apparatus, and Nijimura hates himself for thinking that Nash is the brightest thing in the room at that moment. “Has she been up at all?” Nash asks, jerking his chin in the direction of your sleeping frame, snuggled deep beneath plush bed covers.

“Not since I've been up,” Nijimura answers, wincing as an eyelash curls up and into his eye.

“Lazy baby,” Nash ribs as he begins to empty his pockets. He sets a pack of Marlboro Reds and a Zippo lighter onto the corner of the room's console table. Then he shrugs out of his leather jacket and tosses it onto a nearby chair. Lastly, he slides a pistol out of his jeans and lays it beside his other belongings.

“Do you really need all of that?” Nijimura asks, arching an eyebrow. “Why not just learn better combat?”

Nash laughs and sweeps his tongue out across his lips. “That's the beauty of America, baby. We don't need to fight when we've got an arsenal of weapons at our fingertips. 'Sides, I know how to fight. I just prefer things quick and dirty.”

Nijimura rolls his eyes and shakes his head just like Nash did previously, but he means it. Sometimes, he feels, Nash is willfully stubborn and it plucks at the tendons hugging close to his heart. What's more, he can't decide if he would rather deliver him a good beating or roll with him in the sheets. There's a fine line between the two and if Nijimura's being honest with himself, whatever border separated them before has long since been crossed. Nowadays, sex equates to violence and pleasure runs parallel to pain. It's a miracle that they've managed this long, mostly unscathed and fairly amicable.

Nijimura shakes himself free from his tangle of thoughts and notices that Nash has stripped out of his clothes, donning nothing more than the silver necklace you gifted him last Christmas. He runs a hand through his hair and makes his way over to his side of the mattress. It appears as if he might jump into bed and Nijimura gives him a stern look that warns Nash to mind your stupor.

Nash throws his hands up in a gesture of surrender and slides into bed with an abundance of caution. Though, not without a physical display of exaggerated theatrics. Nijimura crosses his arms over his bare chest and shoots Nash a look that says: _are you done yet?_ ” Nash waves a hand to dispel the unspoken question and leans over to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“I think we should wake her up,” Nash tells Nijimura, a crooked smile on his lips and firelight behind his eyes.

“Why can't you ever just let people sleep?” Nijimura whispers, still taking special care not to wake you.

“She can sleep later. I thought now would be a good time to show her how much we appreciate her,” Nash says, his voice dropping low and spilling like honey. “There's no better way to wake up in my opinion.”

It only takes a nanosecond for Nash's suggestion to sink in, and for as much as Nijimura wants to contest the blond's implication—perhaps for the sake of being difficult—Nijimura can't invent a sustainable argument, nor does he want to. He worries the bottom line of his mouth between his teeth, tugging at a split in the center of his lip. It breaks open and he can taste blood on his tongue before meeting Nash's heat-glazed stare. He offers a curt nod and as fluidly as time drags on, Nash and Nijimura move down the bed in tandem.

Nash peels the blankets back and away from your body slowly, and as if you're subconscious is aware of what's about to take place, you roll over and onto your back. Your submerged mind opens the floodgates of your consent and Nijimura doesn't need to look at Nash to know what he's thinking. He gently shifts your right leg as Nash oversees your left, his fingers sliding high up your thigh as he kisses the slight bend of your knee.

They pepper your skin with glances of endearment, each slide of their lips against your flesh a demonstration of their affection for you. Nash caresses your calf as Nijimura kisses the top of your foot, his breath making you shudder involuntarily. Nash places an open-mouthed kiss just under the curve of your knee before moving up toward the smooth stretch of your thigh. His hair sweeps over your skin and you twitch, whimpering something incoherent that makes the corners of his mouth lift in an arrogant smile. Nijimura flashes Nash a knowing smirk, then lowers his head to nip on the tip of your big toe playfully.

“You're gonna wake her up before we even get started,” Nash says, the flat of his palm pressing down against the inside of your thigh. He gently eases your legs apart, paying close attention to your body's response. You shift marginally and part your lips for a whisper of breath, then go still and offer no further suggestion indicative of cognizance. Nash and Nijimura exhale a simultaneous breath and Nijimura moves up the bed with painstaking caution.

Nash, who is currently looking up the length of your body, turns to whisper to Nijimura, hair falling in his eyes: “Do you ever look at her lips and think that they were made just for–”

Nijimura presses his index finger to Nash's lips to silence the rest of his statement. “Today's about her,” he supplies, moving his hand to tuck the loose section of Nash's hair behind his ear. For a brief moment, he absentmindedly traces the metal piercings that penetrate Nash's earlobe, then he lets his hand fall away and back down to the bed.

“I know that,” Nash says with more force than strictly necessary. “It doesn't change the fact. Besides, our angel loves sucking cock. It's not like she'd be disappointed if I slid my dick into her mouth and fucked her throat.”

“ _You_ might be if she woke startled and decided to bite down,” Nijimura notes, trying to ignore the heat that winds tightly in the low of his abdomen.

Nash looks as if he wants to continue the conversation but quickly decides against it in favor of slipping his long digits beneath the elastic band of your panties. “Help me get these off of her. I don't want her waking up now.”

Nijimura gently braces his hands against your hips and guides you away from the bed, allowing just enough of a gap for Nash to slip the material down past your hips and over your thighs.

“You could have cut them off,” Nijimura says, tension visible in the hard lines of his features as he lowers you down to your previous position.

“I like this pair. I bought them for her,” Nash defends, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah, and if they'd been a pair that I'd purchased for her, you wouldn't have thought twice about destroying them.” Nijimura sweeps his inky hair away from his forehead and slants his gaze in Nash's direction.

“What's your point?” Nash asks, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “So I'm a thoughtless asshole. You knew that already,” he continues, laughter light on his lips. “Now are we going to continue this conversation when this pretty pussy here is begging for attention or are you just going full-homo today?”

Nijimura pinches the thin layer of skin stretched over Nash's ribs between his fingernails, making the blond jerk away from his touch. “Since you've always been so keen on throwing around that freedom of speech, why don't you put your mouth to good use?”

“Don't mind if I do,” Nash answers and wets his lips before fitting himself in the space between your parted thighs. He exhales a soft breath and watches your muscles twitch in response to the cool air that skims over your heated skin. A smile breaks across the stretch of his mouth and Nijimura watches the slow drag of his tongue part your sex and travel up your slit. He shifts on the mattress as he feels himself growing hard, the close intimacy of Nash's ministrations salacious enough without the slick catching between your labia. Nash splays his fingers out on the tops of your thighs and uses his thumbs to open you up to his osculating manipulation. Nijimura shivers as Nash flicks the tip of his tongue out against your clit, humming quietly in the back of his throat.

Nijimura pries his focus away from the apex of your thighs and moves up the bed just enough to lift the thin fabric concealing your breasts away from your skin. He stares down at you, marveling at your beauty as you begin to whimper and fidget. He rubs his hands together, testing their temperature as to avoid startling you into awareness, then he reaches out and sweeps his fingers over your breasts. A noise breaks in the shadow of your throat, louder than before, but when Nijimura steals a glimpse of your face, you're still asleep. He watches your eyelashes flutter for a moment, then returns to the pleasurable task of caressing your breasts.

Nash moans and Nijimura swears he can feel the reverberation of it pass down the length of his spine. He shudders and tries to ignore the sensation as he ducks his head to lay a trail of honeyed kisses over the inviting stretch of bare skin beneath him. He kisses your abdomen, relishing the tiny spasms that reach for his touch. He cups the swell of your breasts as if he's weighing them in his palms, squeezing gently and sweeping his thumbs out across your rising peaks. Your body is warm beneath his lips and he can't resist the urge to taste the heat and the salt of your skin. He presses the flat of his tongue against the space above your navel and leaves a thin trail of saliva where he's been, right up to the valley of your breasts.

“I love how responsive her tits are,” Nash says, lifting his head away from your sex, arousal slick on his chin.

Nijimura starts in response to the sound of Nash's voice, so caught in the moment he forgot he wasn't alone. He nods his agreement, wondering how long Nash was observing him and begins teasing your turgid peaks between his fingers, pinching and rolling each sensitive nub to answering attention. You moan and squirm, hips moving in a way that calls to Nash's recognition as if you're capable of begging for the point of contact you lack. Nash chuckles a low vibration of sound and returns to the heat radiating from between your legs.

Nijimura bows his head, his dark fringe brushing the supple shape of your breast as he takes a nipple into his mouth and exploits your hypersensitivity to his advantage. He swirls his tongue around the taut nub then gently closes his teeth around the tissue. His bite is delicate but when he draws away from the swollen peak, darkened by his affections, a superficial imprint of his teeth is visible on your skin.

Nash arches his back and the motion steals Nijimura's attention. He turns his head and notes the mess of saliva and arousal on your skin—which is enough to send a rush of blood to the head of his cock—but when he discovers that Nash is stroking over his length it brings him to aching hardness. The blond is pretty enough, that he won't deny, but it's knowing what sweet relief touching himself would bring. It's a vicarious experience, one that makes Nijimura shuck his boxers and finally closes his fingers around the hard jut of his cock.

“Fuck,” he breathes, tossing his head back as he smears the slick evidence of his arousal over his glans.

“I'm starting to wish I was,” Nash admits, licking his lips obscenely. “You want in on this?” he continues, nodding at your leaking cunt.

Nijimura strings together a series of expletives before shouldering in next to Nash, the brief friction of skin-on-skin contact sparking in the low of his abdomen and spreading out to electricity between his thighs. He drags his index finger through the viscous fluid catching on your skin and teases your entrance, slowly inserting his fingertip and thumbing your clit. You whine and let your knees fall open further, the strain visible in the shake of your thighs.

“I think she's growing impatient,” Nash claims, a breath catching between the straight edges of his teeth as he squeezes the head of his cock. “I know I am. _Fuck_.”

“You wouldn't know the meaning of patience if someone burned it into your skin,” Nijimura teases. He doesn't wait for Nash to respond, not interested in maintaining a conversation when you're laid out in front of him like this. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and slowly works two fingers into your cunt, savoring the tight heat enveloping his touch.

Nash chooses that moment to duck his head and suck on your clit, the sound of suction and the slide of wetness breaking into notes of profanity that leave a species of gooseflesh creeping over Nijimura.

You emit a high-pitched whine and rouse from your slumber, rubbing sleep from your eyes. It takes you a moment to register exactly what's happening, and it's not until you've propped yourself up on your elbows that you gasp in pleasured surprised. Realization dawns on you like a weighted blanket and leaves you shaky in the knees. You card a hand through Nash's hair in an unstated gesture that begs him to cease his ministrations and continue all the same. Your head is spinning and you can't hear anything but the hammering of your heart. You inhale a deep breath and exhale on a shudder that makes Nijimura smile at you sweetly.

“Good morning,” he says, crooking his fingers and scraping the underside of Nash's chin with his thumbnail. Nash lifts his head despite your trembling fingers clutching at his loose strands. He smirks at you with an air of self-confidence you can't deny and huffs a breath of laughter, presumably due to your expression of surprise.

“Mornin', babydoll,” he rasps as lightning chases the storm clouds darkening his irises.

“That's all you two have to say? You could have woken me up before you...” you trail off, waving your hand in lieu of untangling the words you can't quite form.

“What would be the fun in that?” Nash baits, smirking. “I think this is the best way to wake up our little girl. Don't you agree?” Nash looks to Nijimura, whose gaze is fixed on the way his fingers are disappearing into your wanting arousal. For a moment, you don't think he's heard the question but then he lifts his gaze, fire in his eyes, and nods.

“You know I avoid agreeing with him as much as possible but I have to admit that he's onto something here.” Nijimura's voice sounds like the seduction slipping through your bloodstream and it makes you tense around his fingers as your spine curves away from the bed.

“How long” –you gasp and involuntarily rock yourself down on Nijimura's fingers– “have you been playing with me?” you manage, stammering as much as your limbs are shaking.

“A while,” Nash supplies, his fingers walking up the inside of your leg. “I'm honestly surprised you lasted as long as you did. I'm kind of offended that his fingers woke you up faster than my tongue.”

“It's not a competition,” Nijimura mutters, hugging in a third finger alongside the other two. He twists his wrist and angles his fingers in a way that makes you cry out in pleasure.

Nash arches an eyebrow and looks down at the gesture that punctuating Nijimura's rejoinder. “Really?” he drawls, a wrinkle settling across the center of his forehead in the shape of disbelief.

“Come here and I'll get you off,” you tell Nash, reaching out for his hand.

Nash's mouth bends on a smile that makes him appear soft at that moment, a towheaded angel with something genuine dancing across his eyes, a scintillating light. Except, you know better than to believe that a level of purity such as those with saintly amiability lives within the reaches of Nash's soul. He's dark and minacious and on a collision course with the devil himself. It should be enough to put you off his wiles and charms but if anything, it only draws you deeper into the trenches of his volatile love.

“Make that a promise and save it for later,” Nash says. “This morning is all about you.”

You furrow your brow and Nijimura is quick to read your confusion. “You're a good girl and you deserve a reward.”

The praise sparks like the heat of friction against a rough surface and fans the conflagration spreading through your veins. You grind down against Nijimura's hand and track Nash's motion as he slides up to the head of the bed. He leans forward and you loop an arm around his neck for something to hold onto. He smiles and continues on his trajectory to fit his lips against your own in a passionate kiss. It's slow and deep and exploratory, and you can't help but blush as Nash delivers you a taste you cannot indite. You know what it is, made evident by the blond's previous position between your thighs, but the amalgamation of honeyed brackishness is new to you.

Nijimura continues his game of teasing you, his rhythm alternating between slow drags and quick thrusts, while he takes to kissing your hip and the space just beneath your ribcage. It's hard to breathe and Nash seems more intent on stealing your breath than granting you mercy. When he finally halts his expedition, a thin strand of saliva still connecting your lips, you're finally able to take in a much-needed breath.

Nijimura's teeth scrape over your skin and a violent shiver rushes down your spine like a gust of polar air. A sound falls past your lips that echoes like a mewl and you feel heat return to the contours of your cheeks.

“Don't be embarrassed,” Nijimura tells you, his voice taking on a soothing tone. “There's nothing you could do that would make us change the way we feel for you.”

“Especially not now,” Nash says, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“Do you ever think with your head?” Nijimura asks, sliding his palm over your stomach to brace a hand at your hip.

“Only the one between my legs,” is Nash's reply, then he's wrapping his fingers around your throat and stealing what little breath is left in your lungs for himself.

You laugh into the kiss at the start but no sooner than Nash starts nibbling on your bottom lip is Nijimura thumbing your clit roughly. You pant into Nash's mouth as tiny white specks turn to stars behind your eyes. An intense rush of heat begins at your feet and hastily travels up your legs like a spark chasing a gunpowder trail. Your stomach tenses and pleasure wells up and overflows in you as a deluge overruns a river in time of spate. Nash's fingers tighten, closing off your ability to breathe completely. Your mouth falls slack and whatever sound begs to be heard disappears behind a veil of forced silence.

Nijimura continues his ministrations until you're gasping yourself back into breathing and choking on a cry of overwhelming satisfaction. Nash is smiling down at you in a way that's both cavalier and thoughtful, and for as much as you want to erase the smug look embracing his features, he wears it well.

“You did good, babydoll,” Nash lauds, his fingers slipping into the fall of your hair. “If this was a test, you'd have passed with flying colors.”

“Only if you didn't fail at keeping her conscious,” Nijimura chides. “I was sure she was going to blackout this time.”

“I know what I'm doing,” Nash insists, his tone lilting in a larkish manner.

“You sure about that, Daddy?” you tease, falling back against the pillows behind you. You tug Nash with you with what little strength you have left and gesture for Nijimura to join you.

“Hey, you're supposed to be on my side,” Nash scolds, but his rebuke is quickly cast out into the wind for the smile that betrays him.

“I am on your side, and I trust you, but someone needs to keep you in line,” you tell him, slightly breathless.

“Tch. If you ever figure out a way to restrain his ego let me know, okay?” Nijimura says, climbing up the bed with slight difficulty.

“Why don't you just worry about your own problems and let me worry about mine,” Nash says with a pointed nod in the direction of Nijimura's half-hard cock.

You giggle and Nash slides his gaze in your direction. “What are you laughing about?” he needles, and it's plain to see that he's trying not to catch your communicable amusement.

“Are you two ever going to stop bickering?” you ask, shifting on the unmade bed until you're properly centered between your two lovers. “I feel like I'm always trespassing on the grounds of an old married couple.”

“I'll stop bickering with him when he's out of my life for good,” Nijimura answers, and in spite of the straightforwardness of his statement, you know that he intends for it to be facetious. He lies down and drapes an arm over your stomach, his skin hot and slightly tacky against your own.

“I'm not going anywhere so if it's my disappearance you're hoping for, you're going to be sorely disappointed.” Nash repositions himself on the bed, the damp head of his cock catching against your skin as he falls into place by your side. “Now pull the blankets back up the bed before our little girl gets cold.”

“You have hands,” Nijimura says, but he's already retrieving the rumpled material with a sigh.

“Thank you, Daddy,” you tell him, turning to face him directly. His dark eyes pull you in and you think you could easily drown in his gaze if it were possible. He offers you a saccharine smile that fuses with the bittersweet essence that sticks to your tongue. He bows his head and plants a warm kiss on your lips, sneaking his tongue into your mouth before he retreats.

Nash shifts on his shoulder and slips a leg between your thighs, and just when you're about to protest, he claims innocence through static equilibrium. He fits his head next to yours on your pillow and whispers against the shell of your ear. “Let's off him later.”

You emit a noise of contempt and push at his hip, a contradictory smile on your lips. “We will do no such thing. You're hard enough to handle _with_ his help. I can't imagine what being with you on my own would entail.”

“You're never going to find out either,” Nijimura states and aims a challenging glance at Nash.

“Fine, whatever, but just know that putting up with him warrants more than a handjob. I'm expecting a whole production later.” Nash curls his fingers against your inner thigh and exhales a soft sigh. “This would be a good time for you to get your creative juices flowing. I mean that metaphorically, of course.”

“Just stop,” you tell him, laughing. “Just stop talking.”

“But you get wet when I talk to you. I know you love the sound of my voice,” Nash says, his timbre scraping low and dragging like seduction against the dark of his throat.

“That's it,” Nijimura says, sitting up and taking a pillow into his hands. He slides off the bed and for a moment you fear that he's leaving the room, but he hastily makes his way over to Nash's side of the mattress and begins smothering him with the fluffy down.

“I know where he keeps his cash so we'll have plenty to live on for a while,” Nijimura tells you, holding his own against Nash who is beginning to put up a fight. “We can even run to Mexico—we'll go wherever you want.”

Nash, who has finally managed to rip the pillow out of Nijimura's hands, sits up and whips it at him. “You dumbass, you can't go just anywhere when you commit a crime. You have to go to a country that has no extradition treaty with the States.”

“We're dating a criminal, I hope you know that,” Nijimura says to you, biting back a smile.

“You've committed your fair share of crime yourself,” Nash counters, eyeing Nijimura closely. “'Sides, you're only a criminal if you get caught.”

“You have gotten caught!” Nijimura explicates.

“Those were misdemeanors, low-level offenses,” Nash says dismissively.

“I thought today was supposed to be about me,” you chime in, thrusting the bottom line of your mouth out in a pout.

Nash and Nijimura spare you a sideways glance before meeting the other's gaze. “Wanna go for round two?” Nash asks, wetting his lips.

“If you can last that long,” Nijimura challenges, already making his way back around the foot of the bed.

You feel the mattress dip beneath their combined weight and smile to yourself. It may not be easy, living with two people constantly at odds with each other, per se, but somehow things always seem to work out in the best way possible.

And when you feel their hands return to your skin, you think to yourself that today is no exception.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
